THE STAN HUCKMAN STORY
People approach me for screenwriting consultancy. They also approach me to help write their screenplays.
One of these was Stan Huckman.
He was a Desert Storm war vet and novelist who wanted to adapt his own published book into a screenplay. He had no idea how to write for film and came to me for help. As I described how he might proceed, he had a brainstorm. Why didn’t I write the script for him? Better yet, we could collaborate! We’d keep the story and dialogue from the book. I’d structure the screenplay, format it, Dan would add additional dialogue where needed. Yeah, ok, that could work. Then I asked what he would pay me.
Oh, no, no no no. He didn’t have money to actually pay me.
Oooook, so he was proposing…what?
His idea was this: I had just finished a novel. Not just a novel, but the notorious first novel. I was the proud papa who had not a single contact in literary agencies or publishing circles. Fiction from first time novelists in these days of .99 cent Kindle downloads, about as commercial as that quirky, slice-of-life, true-story-inspired first spec screenplay you wrote about your Uncle Jimbo, the Okie Noodler.
Not a problem, said Stan. He had ins at two publishing houses. He would guarantee my novel got published if I would write the screenplay adaptation.
And how he could guarantee this?
His powerful Lit Agent (I checked, she was) would sign me, would push the book to her publishing contacts. She would also push the screenplay adaptation through her LA office. Stan, meanwhile, would push my book at his publishing house. With him attached as editor, it could happen. He would hand deliver it to his award-winning small press (I checked, they were) where he was a rock star. Hell, they were practically family! So, how about it?!
I agreed.
I worked up a Co-Writer agreement with my lawyer. Script would be optioned for X, sold for Y, first rewrite guaranteed for Z.
I began working. Co-writers must have a level of trust, it’s true. But Stan Huckman really trusted me—I didn’t see or hear from the guy for weeks. Three months later, I had the first draft.
He picked me up in his 2001 Ford F150. Gaping rust holes. Paint from other cars on dented front and back bumpers, speaking of some scary parking lot rampage. Stan was capable of such a rampage, being the not-to-be-fucked-with Desert Storm vet. He also had a odd habit of using Chapstick every 92 seconds, but that’s another story…
When I put a hard-copy of the adaption in the back seat of the F150, I saw the manuscript copy of my novel below his gym shoes on the floor of the car. He quickly explained this away…hmmm.
A week later came a single paragraph email saying his publisher had read my script and wouldn’t publish it. There was nothing he could do. I thought back to my manuscript under his old Reeboks…not good.
Weeks passed. More silence. Then arguments over issues that had with nothing to do with script. Zero activity from the hotshot lit agent, unanswered emails, more accusations…not good at all.
I had delivered a first draft script for nothing.
The one saving grace–and the point of this post–is the Co-Writer agreement I had my lawyer draw up.
Good Reader, when you spend MONTHS nailing your script down, and you get it out there, and get a bite– That is the time to find an entertainment lawyer. Protect yourself. Trust your fellow mammals, but don’t screw yourself in the process. Cover Thy Ass.
Because of that contract and our “creative differences”, I can’t go out with the draft– He would never grant me the rights to the source material. But Stan can’t run with it either, not without paying me my fair share. Stalemate.
I’ve heard nothing since about the project, or from Stan Huckman.
Beware of men carrying Chapstick in Ford F150’s.
